


Everything to Lose

by mariaschuyler



Category: Anastasia (1997), Anastasia- Flaherty/Ahrens/Mcnally
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, at first though, because it's my favorite trope, they hate each other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-10-22 01:57:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10687410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariaschuyler/pseuds/mariaschuyler
Summary: This is Anya's big break, and she's not going to let a man like Dmitry take it away from her.





	1. Chapter 1

Anya was already having a shitty day before she found her microwave hanging by its wire off of the fire escape. She was four and a half minutes late to her audition in the morning because her alarm clock somehow ended up outside her front door, so she wasn’t even let through the door of the theater, she was doused with cold, dirty rainwater by a bus passing too close to the sidewalk on the way to lunch, and she’d forgotten her wallet at home, leaving her shivering with an angrily growling stomach because of one man. Dmitry. 

Dmitry was her completely infuriating across-the-hall neighbor who had no sense of boundaries and an even smaller sense of how a normal 28-year-old should act. He loved playing stupid pranks on Anya, like stealing her alarm clock the night before a huge audition and leaving it outside her apartment so that she wouldn’t wake up in the morning, because he was just thoughtful that way. As an already established cog in the machine that is show business, Dmitry loved rubbing Anya’s misfortunes when it came to auditions in her face. It wasn’t that she didn’t have the talent or the drive or the experience, it was just that every casting director in the city seemed to dislike her. At least, that’s what she’d say after yet another botched audition. 

It had been three years since she’d moved to the city on her own from her parents’ manor in Long Island to pursue her dream of making a career in the arts. She’d learned early on to be flexible and take anything given to her, so she’d spent the past three years flitting between different community theater shows and the occasional television ad that her manager, Vlad Popov, managed to book while simultaneously working at a 24-hour diner on the corner of her block.  
It was only with a little financial help from her parents that she still had a roof over her head, and for that she was endlessly grateful. That was also one of the biggest reasons why she and Dmitry were so at odds with each other. He was the first person she had met when she arrived, besides the taxi driver who smelled a little too strongly of smoke and seemed a little out of it. She was struggling to carry her boxes to the elevator, her parents trailing not too far behind, as Dmitry stood waiting in the elevator.

“Hold the door!” she’d shouted, and he did, a bit impatiently, his eyes widening when he saw the three figures hidden behind stacks of cardboard boxes, laden down by additional duffle bags and backpacks. 

“Thank you, sir,” Anya’d panted, hoisting the boxes higher on her hip so she could get a good view of Dmitry. 

“You don’t have to call me sir. Floor?”

“Fourth. I’m Anya. I’d shake your hand but-”

“Yes, I understand. You’re the new neighbor? I live on Four too. Dmitry,” he pressed the button then gave a funny little salute and grinned crookedly. 

“Nice to meet you. These are my parents, Nic and Alexandra Romanov. They’re helping me move in.”  
Her parents smiled and greeted Dmitry from behind the boxes which still partially obscured their view. Anya could see recognition dawn on Dmitry’s face. Of course. Everyone knew her parents; they were successful business owners and nearly New York royalty, which meant that most people also knew Anya, and she could tell that Dmitry was piecing the puzzle together.

“Hello,” he said, standing a bit straighter, “can I take some of those boxes for you?”

Anya scoffed. “Kiss ass,” she mumbled under her breath. She’d seen this happen too many times to count. From the moment she started making her own friends, she’d understood the repercussions of her parents being known everywhere. People would try to make friends with her solely because of her last name, and she had to learn early on to be wary of those who were too quick to befriend her.

“Anastasia!” Her mother sounded more upset than shocked. Her parents met her sheepish grin with disappointed looks. Anya had always been the stubborn, hot-headed one compared to her sweet, demure older sisters, and mischievous and playful younger brother. It also made her the one to work the hardest to live up to her parents’ steep expectations of her, especially when she’d decided she didn’t want to work for Romanov Industries like Tati and Olga, or become a lawyer like Maria.

“Sorry, mama. And sorry, Dmitry. I don’t think you’re a kiss-ass.” She definitely still did, and he seemed to realize so, eyeing her suspiciously over the boxes he’d grabbed from her parents.

The ride to the fourth floor seemed endless, but eventually the metal door slid open, allowing a view of identical dark green doors that lined a small but brightly lit corridor. 

“I’m 412. I’m assuming you’re moving into 413?” Dmitry asked, hoisting the boxes higher and starting down the hallway.

“Yes, I am. So you’re my neighbor across the hall then?” She asked, following nearly blindly, swaying a bit under the weight of her belongings. 

“Seems so, princess,” he retorted, stopping in front of a door halfway down the hallway. “Mine’s the one on the left. You’re on the right.”

Anya let out a breath and dropped the boxes and her duffle bag, rustling through her backpack to find her keys.

“Ah-ha!” she held them up to the light, sticking the keys in the lock and opening the door. Luckily, the movers had already gotten all of her furniture up the day before, so all she needed to do was unpack the rest of her belongings. 

Her parents dropped their remaining boxes alongside hers right inside the doorway and left her with tight hugs and promises to meet soon for dinner, and with a last wave goodbye, Anya was alone with the stranger from across the hallway.

Now that she was seeing him in better lighting and without brown cardboard concealing her view, she could recognize that while he was indeed a very handsome man, he also seemed extremely familiar. 

“Have we met before?” she asked, dropping onto the blue sofa in the middle of the living room, gesturing for him to follow her in. He did so reluctantly, setting his boxes on top of hers by the door. 

“Not that I know of. I think I’d know if I’d met a Romanov,” he smirked, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“Wait, I know what it is! You were in Wicked last year, weren’t you? Fiyero, right?” Anya chose to ignore his comment.

“Actually yes, I was.”

“I knew I’d seen you before! I came to see the show with my brother Alex. He couldn’t stop raving about the pants the whole time afterwards!” she giggled, hiding her mouth under her hand.

“Well, everyone does love the white pants,” he smiled. “Anyway, I should go. I’ll leave you to unpack. I’m just across the hall, so holler if you need anything.”

“I will. Thanks for your help, Dmitry.”

Every instance after their initial meeting only became more and more exasperating, as Dmitry began to show his true colors. It was clear that he was uncomfortable with her social status, and that she was coasting through life without much trouble. Now when he called her “princess”, it sounded mocking and derogatory. Every shared glance hardened into a glare, and Anya, as stubborn as usual, refused to let his anger go unmatched. He took to playing petty jokes on Anya at every chance, finding joy in her annoyance.

Everything led up to today, where Anya stood in her kitchen staring at the empty space in her wall where her microwave used to sit. The frozen dinner in her hand was gathering condensation while she struggled to comprehend what was happening. All she wanted to do after the hellish day she’d had was to sit in front of the T.V., binge the latest season of How to Get Away With Murder, and eat her microwaved fettuccine alfredo. 

“DMITRY!” she screeched, throwing the plastic tray on the counter and storming across the room to the front door which she yanked open with superhuman force. She barrelled across the hallway and pounded on the door of apartment 412. 

“What, Anya, what?!” Dmitry opened the door half-dressed, towel drying his hair with an exasperated look on his face.

“Where the HELL did you put my microwave? What the fuck Dmitry, who sneaks into someone’s apartment and steals their goddamn microwave!”

“Because it’s funny, princess. It’s totally worth it when I get to see you make that face like you’re constipated!” 

She yanked his ear down until they were face to face. 

“Dmitry, give me my fucking microwave or so help me God, I will make sure you’ll be eating out of your nose for the rest of my life. You do NOT want to test me after the day I’ve had.”

“Aw, poor Anya. Another screwed up audition? I guess some people just aren’t made for show business!” 

With a firm grip still on his ear, Anya twisted her fingers and dragged Dmitry out of his apartment.

“Ow, ow, OW, Anya! Let go! Okay fine, fine! It’s on your fire escape! Just let go of me already!” 

Anya promptly released his ear and stomped back to her apartment, opening her window where, sure enough, her microwave was dangling perilously close to Mr. Yacobowski’s herb garden one floor down. 

“I’m going to fucking kill him, I swear!” Anya growled, yanking the microwave up by its wire until it was resting safely in her arms. She huffed and sank down onto the creaky metal stairs, leaning back to look up at the skyscrapers above her. 

“Please, God, let tomorrow be less of a disaster than today has been.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Anya, dear, I just booked the most amazing audition for you!” Vlad’s voice echoed down the hall and carried past the thick wooden door to Anya’s room. While she was grateful to have found such an amazing manager and dad-away-from-home all rolled into one, she was really starting to regret giving Vlad a key to her apartment. 

“Anya,” his voice was closer now, hovering over her blanket covered head. “Wake up dear, the day’s nearly over!”

She groaned and rolled over to check the digital clock on her nightstand. 8;45. Knowing Vlad, he’d probably already been up for four hours, so by his standards, she’d already wasted the day away.

“Give me fifteen more minutes Vlad, please.”

“Uh, uh, uh,” he chided, “we’ve got to get you ready for an audition!” He pulled the layer of blankets off of Anya, and when she blinked her eyes open once again, she was met with Vlad’s wide grin, much too alert for not even nine in the morning. 

“Ugh. Fine, what is it?” she huffed, sitting up and crossing her arms over her t-shirt covered chest. 

“They’re looking for fresh faces for a new Off-Broadway musical. This is the big leagues, baby! If you nail this audition, who knows where this will take you? There are already rumors of a Broadway run!” Vlad was nearly bouncing up and down with glee. Anya seemed a bit less enthused.

“Yeah Vlad, IF I nail this audition. And who’s to say that I will? I’ll probably tank it from the beginning as usual,” she argued.

“Trust me, Anya, I have a good feeling about this one! Now, come! We have a week and a half to prepare a monologue and 32 bars of a song, let’s get started!”

“Okay, in ten minutes, Vlad. Ten minutes.”

-

“Hey, Princess. Heard you booked another audition. Ready to fail yet again?”

“Oh Dmitry, how I love it when you sweet talk me. Also, butt the hell out of my business,” Anya retorted, locking the door to her apartment as Dmitry watched from his own doorway.

“Woah, tone it down, Anya. All I’m saying is that I can help. It’s getting a little sad watching you get rejected constantly and, well, you know I have TONS of experience with successful auditions so-”

“I don’t need your help, Dmitry. I’m fine on my own.”

“I don’t know, Anya. It might be a good idea to have some experienced help on this one. Like I said, if this audition goes well, your career could really take off!” Vlad beamed, clapping Dmitry on the back. “It’s good to see you again, Dmitry.”

“Always a pleasure, Vlad,” Dmitry replied, shaking Vlad’s outstretched hand.

“Ugh, I hate that you two get along so well. Why must you betray me like this, Vlad?” Anya groaned.

“Anya, you complain too much. Please, for the sake of landing this role, let him help you!” Vlad begged.

“I don’t need any help, Vlad, seriously! I’ve been doing this long enough to know how to do this on my own,” she cocked her hip and glared at Dmitry.

“Yes, dear, and you’ve been failing long enough. It’s time you landed a real, paid role, Anya. You’re talented enough, you’ve put in all the work. You deserve this. Let Dmitry help you.”

“Dammit, I hate when you compliment me to prove a point. And I hate it even more when you’re right. Fine, Dmitry, you can help with this audition.”

“Hmm, no I want you to ask me nicely,” he smirked, crossing his arms. 

Anya groaned, bracing herself for the embarrassment that would ensue. “Dmitry Sudayev, will you please help me ace this audition with your myriad experience and abundant talent?”

“That seemed a tad forced but whatever, I recorded it for my ringtone anyway, and now I’m gonna help you perform your best audition ever!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is really really short and super late but I'm already working on the next chapter which will be out of Friday. Thanks for bearing with me! Also Dmitry reminds me a whole lot of Jake Peralta from Brooklyn Nine Nine so a lot of his mannerisms will stem from that


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They sing together and Vlad hatches a plan

“I’ve just heard back from the casting director, Anya. They’re cutting the acting audition for now, so all you have to do is prepare your song, and if you get past that audition, they’ll call you in to read sides,” Vlad was all business as soon as Anya picked up the phone.

“That’s good, right? Now I can focus completely on the song?” Anya asked, licking mayonnaise from her sandwich off of her thumb. She had just returned from the gym and was making her lunch when Vlad called.

“It’s good, but not completely. You’ll have to work even harder on your performance if you want to make it past the first audition.”

“That’s alright, I’m a bit more confident in my song anyway. Nonna trained me well, after all,” she was now putting the ingredients back in the fridge, eager to get back to her lunch.

“And you’ve made astounding strides in the right direction, but right now you need an extra push. Call Dmitry over and have him work the piece with you. I think he’ll be a great help,” Vlad advised as Anya groaned, shutting the refrigerator door.

“Do I have to, Vlad? I personally think I’m doing great on my own,” she huffed.

“Call him over, Anya. I’ll be there within the hour, and when I get there, you two better be rehearsing together,” he stated firmly.

“Fine, I’ll call the devil’s spawn over. But if they find his dead body somewhere, just know that it’s your fault,” she griped, ending the call. 

To: evil neighbor  
come over, vlad’s orders

From: evil neighbor  
hmmm

To: evil neighbor  
seriously dmitry??? you’re the one who wanted to help in the first place

From: evil neighbor  
ugh FINE but you’re making me lunch

To: evil neighbor  
i’m definitely not

“You know, I’m really doing you a favor by coming in on my day off. One would even say that you’re indebted to me now,” a voice called, accompanied by the shutting of Anya’s front door.

“Every day is a day off when you’re unemployed, Dmitry. I owe you nothing. And may I remind you again, you’re the one who nearly BEGGED me to let you help with this audition,” Anya griped, sandwich in hand.

“You wound me, Anya,” Dmitry grinned, clutching his chest. “And you made me lunch too! How kind of you.” He snatched the sandwich out of Anya’s hand, taking a bite .

“Dmitry, what the hell! I was eating that!” Anya stormed.

“Obviously not because I’m eating it right now. Anyway, let’s start already, I really don’t want to stay here any longer than necessary.” 

Anya resigned herself to the fact that she wasn’t going to be eating lunch any time soon, and instead grabbed a granola bar and her water bottle and led Dmitry into the living room where her piano sat.

“Usually Nonna plays while I sing, but since she isn’t here, I can use an accompaniment track instead,” Anya said, picking up the black binder that housed her music.

“Nonna?” Dmitry asked.

“My grandmother. She’s my vocal coach. Though you may know her as Maria Feodorovna,” she said, flipping through the contents of her binder.

“Woah, woah, wait, the Maria Feodorovna is your grandmother? The Broadway legend? Why has this not come up in conversation before?” Dmitry was suddenly gaping like a fish. 

“I didn’t know I was supposed to tell you every little thing about my life, Dmitry. And I don’t see how it’s any of your business, anyway.”

“Well it would have been nice to know that Broadway royalty was hanging out in the apartment across from mine for the past several years now,” he grumbled, “But anyway, there’s no need to use a track. I can just play the accompaniment for you.”

“Wait, what? You play piano?” Anya asked incredulously.

“Well I had to do something when I was growing up, and the community center down the block had a piano so I taught myself how to play by ear and eventually read music,” he shrugged nonchalantly.

“Oh,” she said, lacking any idea of a good response. “Anyway, we should start already. Sheet music’s in the red binder.” She stuck her own binder on the music stand, took a swig of her water, and started on some lip trills as Dmitry laid the piece out on the piano. 

“God Help the Outcasts. You know Hunchback?” Dmitry asked as he sat at the bench and started playing some scales. 

Anya stopped her warm-up to respond. “Of course. It’s one of my favorites.”

“No way. Nice taste, Romanov,” he smirked.

“Wow, a compliment already, Sudayev? I’m shocked,” Anya grinned playfully.

“Don’t get used to it, Princess. Are you warmed up enough?”

Anya simply nodded in response as Dmitry began playing the intro. It wasn’t long before they had finished running through the piece several times, Dmitry offering both constructive criticism and snarky comments which Anya had already learned not to take to heart. 

“You know, you’re not half bad, Anya. I think you have a real shot here,” Dmitry smiled, a rare moment of sincerity peeking through his typical facade of cocky immaturity.

“Thank you. Dmitry. Seriously, that means a lot,” she returned his smile, handing him a glass of water. “And by the way, what’s with all the compliments today? Has an alien being taken over your body? Are you sick? Dying?”

“None of the above,” he retorted. “And if you must know, I am finally no longer unemployed. I got a call yesterday from a casting director saying that I got the role.”

“Seriously? That’s awesome, Dmitry. What role is it?” 

“Nunya,” he replied.

“What? I’ve never heard of that, what show is it from?” she furrowed her eyebrows.

“Nunya business, Princess,” he laughed, setting his glass of water down on the island.

“Goddammit, Dmitry, can’t you be serious for once in your life?!” Anya glared, snatching the glass up and dropping it in the sink as Dmitry returned to the piano.

“Chill out, Anya. You wouldn’t know it anyway. It’s something new I’ve been collaborating on for a while now,” Dmitry remarked, running his fingers over the piano keys as he prepared to play another song. 

“Well that wasn’t condescending at all. We get it, Dmitry, you’ve made it on Broadway and therefore are SO MUCH better than the rest of us. Now if you’d please, Vlad will be here any minute now, and if he sees us not rehearsing, I am fully confident that he’ll throw us both into the Hudson,” she grumped.

“Now that I can agree with you on.” He began the intro again as Anya sang once again, her voice ringing clear through the air.

-

“-it’s like the sky is new!” 

This was strange. Vlad had finally made it out of his meeting and was in the midst of unlocking Anya’s door when he heard a harmony of two voices singing together that seemed to be coming from inside the apartment. But, no, that couldn’t be, he frowned. There was no way Dmitry and Anya were getting along well enough to speak to each other without hostility, let alone sing a duet together, even if it was in good fun. But there it was again, and surely it was the two young adults singing together, their previous rivalry seemingly vanished as their voices blended like hot coffee and honey.

“Hmm,” Vlad mused, “curiouser and curiouser.” If he could get the two to finally stop fighting, they’d make quite the dynamic duo onstage. If he was going to make that happen, he had some work to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao good thing I said the update would be on friday even though i never specified WHICH friday ;-)   
> and shout out to lar aka @anyasdimitry on tumblr for ruining my life with her dimya headcanons


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She auditions

This was it. Today was the day of the audition and, thankfully, no alarm clocks were missing this time. Anya woke up promptly at 6:30 and was out of bed and in the shower by 6:37 . She began making breakfast at 7:02 and was done by 7:20. Dmitry arrived at 7:45 to begin vocal warmups and final run throughs, and by the time Vlad arrived at 8:05 a.m. sharp, she was sitting on the sofa sipping throat-coat tea and flipping through her sheet music, running through the song in her mind as Dmitry played it on the piano.

“Ah, good. You’re both here. How do you feel, Anya?” he asked, dropping his bags next to the sofa. Anya shot him a quick thumbs-up by way of greeting, preferring to save her voice for her 10:00 audition.

“You have to be there by 9:00. They want to do the audition onstage in the actual theater, so we’ll have to account for commute time.” Vlad sped through his instructions while filling his travel mug with the coffee Anya had left in the pot for him. “Dmitry, will you be accompanying us this morning?”

“Nah, I’ve got some stuff going on today. You’ll survive without me, I’m sure,” he said, standing up from the piano and gathering his things. “I’ll see you later, though. Break a leg, Princess.” He smiles at Anya a bit awkwardly. Anya responds with a smile of her own and walks him out, shutting the door behind him.

“Alright, dear. Anything else you need to do before we go?” Vlad hefts his bag onto his shoulder. She shakes her head, grabs her mug and backpack, and they’re out the door.

-

It takes them thirty-five minutes to get to the theater, and Anya is done with her paperwork and sitting next to Vlad in a hard plastic seat by 8:58. 

She knows auditions tend to run behind, especially with the line of girls ahead of her, and though she brought things to keep herself occupied, she still can’t help but people-watch.

Almost everyone in the room looks just like her. Short, thin, long strawberry-blonde hair. Some are clearly nervous, biting their nails or jiggling their legs, or gripping the arms of their seats too hard it turns their knuckles white.

Others, though, are confident. These girls sit up straight and are vocalizing to themselves, or are walking around the holding room with their phones to their ears, nodding their heads to their accompaniment tracks. 

Some girls are silent, stuck up, defensive. They know what’s on the line and will stop at nothing to succeed. But there are also girls sitting in groups, complaining about the wait time, or sending one another quiet reassurances.

And Anya? She’s just there, living in the background. Coexisting. No one even spares her a glance. And why should they? She’s just like all of the other hundred-and-something girls that have passed through so far. She’s okay with it, she realizes. She prefers a bit of time alone to organize her thoughts and mentally prepare herself. 

The clock on the wall ticks, time passing at a snail’s pace as she flips through her music again and again, humming the melody as her eyes skip over the notes. Vlad sits silently beside her, the only sound he makes coming from the tap-tapping of his fingers on his laptop’s keyboard. Finally, she sees the familiar head pop through the door. 

“Number one sixteen, you’re on deck.”

Anya takes a deep breath and releases it, gathering her music together and following the woman through the door. She’s led to a chair in the wings where she sitas and listens to number 115 sing her piece. She’s good. Really good. 

Normally Anya doesn’t get too nervous during auditions, but this time, she knows how important it is. Her dream has always been to originate a role on Broadway, and now she’s so close yet still so far away.

An echoing clap breaks her out of her thoughts. “Thank you, that will be all,” she hears from somewhere in the audience. She can make out a voice saying “thank you” and hushed whispers from the same place in the house, and soon someone is yelling “next!”.

She’s ushered onstage where the lights blind her a little bit. She hands off her sheet music to the accompanist off to the side and steps to center stage. 

“Hello,” she starts. “My name is Anastasia Romanov and I’ll be singing “God Help the Outcasts” from the Hunchback of Notre Dame. She sees a nod from the audience, and the pianist begins to play the intro. 

-

After that, Anya doesn’t remember much. She tends to get a little lost in the music. The next thing she remembers is the music stopping, a voice thanking her, and making her way off the stage. She meets Vlad in the waiting area and they head out with the intention of stopping for lunch along the way home. 

“How do you think it went?” he asks once they’re seated outside their favorite cafe. 

“I don’t really know. You know how I get during auditions. But I really don’t wanna get my hopes up. From what I remember, though, I think it went pretty well,” she says through a grin. 

“Good, good. Now we just play the waiting game. There’s not much you can do to prepare for the next phase, just stay focused and don’t lose hope. I really think something good is going to come out of this.”

“I hope so, Vlad. But honestly-” Anya is interrupted by her phone ringing. She scrambles to pick it up, dropping her napkin and accepting the call. “Hello?”

“Princess,” a voice calls from the other end.

“Oh, Dmitry. It’s just you.” Anya clearly deflates in her seat.

“Aw, don’t sound too excited to hear from me, Anya,” he teases. 

“I’m sorry. I was expecting you to be someone else,” she explains quickly. “Anyway, what’s up?”

“Just wanted to know how the audition went. I hope I didn’t have to spend all of that time with you for nothing,” his tone is light.

She doesn’t realize until now how their dynamic has changed. The old Dmitry wouldn’t have spared her a second thought once the audition was over. He’d have returned to his malicious jokes and unkind jabs about her family. She wasn’t sure she really liked this shift in their relationship. It was strange and unfamiliar.

“Anya?” she hears his voice call again, shaking her out of her thoughts.

“Oh, sorry. It was good, I hope. I won’t know the results until after the last audition today. I’m trying not to think about it, though,” she confessed. 

“I understand. Hey, I gotta go, duty calls. See you later, Princess.” The sound of the dial tone beeps through Anya’s thoughts.  
“Dmitry?” Vlad asks, sipping a spoonful of soup, eyeing her with a weird look over his little round glasses. 

“Yeah, he was just asking about the audition,” she clarifies. 

“Hmm. And how are things going with him?” Vlad smiles. He’s still got the same weird look on his face.

“Um, as well as it could possibly be considering he’s the devil himself, I suppose,” she shrugs. “Why?”

“No reason,” he hums. Anya regards him suspiciously, but dismisses his comment, focusing instead on her French Onion soup that’s gotten cold so that the cheese is now coagulating over the top. 

“Hey. I’m proud of you, you know? I don’t tell you that nearly as often as I should,” Vlad’s tone is softer now.

“I know, Vlad. Thank you. And I’m so, so lucky to have you,” she smiles, taking his hand. They sit in comfortable silence for a while, finishing their food as they relax in each others’ company. 

This is why Anya loves Vlad so much. Their relationship has been easy from the very beginning, which means they’ve gotten along like two peas in a pod since the day they met. She knew how lucky she was to have such an amazing manager because what he usually lacked in chivalry, he more than made up for in endless support and love. Not to mention, he helps her ignore the impending sense of doom hovering over her head that keeps her on the edge of her seat, her hand never too far away from her phone. 

It’s while she’s picking the croutons out of her salad that she receives the call that she’s been waiting for.

“Miss Romanov?” the gruff voice questions. 

“This is she,” Anya responds as Vlad gives her a knowing look. She shushes him with a wave of her arm as she tunes into the voice on the other end of the line. 

“This is Gleb Vaganov, the casting director for The Last Five Years. I was just calling to let you know that we’d like for you to come back and read for the role of Cathy. We’re having our leading man come in tomorrow if you can make it.”  
Anya can hardly contain her excitement. “Yes, of course! I’ll be there whenever you need me!” 

“Great, how does 8:15 sound?” he asks. She hears a faint rustling, so she assumes he’s flipping through a schedule of some sort.

“8:15 is perfect, thank you so much sir!” she exclaims, having to keep herself from squealing. 

“Splendid. We’ll see you there, Anastasia. Have a wonderful afternoon.” The call ends, and Anya is still glued in her seat, unable to move.

“Did that just happen?” she asks rhetorically when she’s gained full control of her voice. “Am I understanding this correctly? They actually want me in for a second audition?” 

“It seems so, dear!” Vlad is beaming with happiness for his young protégé. 

“Oh, Vlad, this is amazing! They want me in at 8:15 tomorrow morning to read with their leading man. I can’t believe this! I’ve gotta go, Vlad. I’m sorry to leave you here, but I really don’t think you want to witness me screaming my head off in public,” she laughs, leaving him with a hug.

Finally, her life is heading in the right direction. All she needed was a little nudge, and some extra work that was well worth it. She heads towards her apartment building on a mission. There was one person she would never have made it this far without, and she realized, begrudgingly, that she was going to have to thank him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi I know I said the show she was auditioning for was Brand New and Never Heard Of Before but can we just pretend for the sake of the plot please okay thank you I love y'all for actually reading this!! Since I graduate in like 8 days, hopefully updates will be more frequent.  
> "Sick Wicked ref"- me @me

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, and please bear with me while I figure this out! Updates will most likely be sporadic for now until I figure out a steady schedule for myself :-)


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